i'm itchy.

i was doused in gasoline, soaked so completely my fingers and soles of my feet look like prunes. you lit the match, i was on fire, it didn't hurt. you snapped my photo. once, twice, three times. i stood up and lost my balance. that's when you notice my legs. why am i in the hospital again? the food is bad, the people worse. i don't know why i was sent here. well i had just watched a woman deliver her own baby. and i had snorted a live fly. wings and all. "i had to. the cocaine wouldn't crumble. the fly seemed like the next best choice." a child on my hip then, his weight and warmth seemed perfect but i dropped him in the bathroom. he never hit the floor, just kept falling down. there's the flies again. they must be everywhere. i followed the child to a place in the forest where people were apes but they were also made out of trees. branches twisted in ways reality proves impossible and made their limbs beautiful yet sadly stationary. i guessed i had never seen anything more magnificent. "no i probably haven't."